Chapter Text
Jughead parked his black Ducati Monster just outside Pop's. It was almost 10 p.m. and the night was quite foggy. He killed the engine and stared at the neon sign casting a red misty aura over the parking lot and the few cars there. He was back in Riverdale.
He took off the helmet, hanged it on the mirror and looked around, everything seemed just the same as always. He walked towards the entrance and pushed the door, welcomed by the oh-so-familiar bell ring, a comforting sound. He scanned the room quickly, the booths were almost totally empty except for a group of cheerleaders and football players laughing and drinking milkshakes, undoubtedly celebrating a win.
“Good evening. Would you like some coffee? It's fresh” came a voice on his right. He turned toward the reassuring voice to see Pop Tate standing behind the counter with a coffee pot in his hand.
“Oh my...Jughead Jones!” he exclaimed with a wide smile. “It's been a long time, kid! I almost didn't recognize you without the beanie and this new haircut, good to see you!” he offered his hand.
“Thanks Pop, you too” Jughead smiled back shaking Pop's hand and taking a seat “I heard you retired.”
“Yeah, well I come here from time to time ho help the new boss.”
“I was wondering...is it too late for a burger and some onion rings?” Jughead asked, suddenly realizing how hungry he was. It had been a long trip back from New York and oddly enough he didn't stop to eat or drink on the way.
“Maybe, for someone could be a little late, but I remember you to be quite famished at all hours.”
Jughead smirked taking off his leather jacket and laying it on the stool to his left. “Here, have some coffee to start, and I'll fix the burger in no time” Pop said, filling a cup with the hot liquid and handing it to him before heading to the kitchen.
A few minutes later Pop was back carrying a large plate with a hamburger, fries and onion rings. “Enjoy, and let me know if you'd like something else, ok?”
“Yeah. Thanks Pop” Jug replied. He looked down at the plate before him and his mouth started to water, he definitely missed Pop's burgers and the homey atmosphere. He ate his food calmly, savoring every bite.
When he was finished he took his time to look around the place. Everything looked the same: the faux-leather seats, the retro-looking menus and the pictures on the wall behind the jukebox, among which there was one of Betty, Archie Veronica and himself the night of senior prom. He walked over to the wall and looked at the picture. The four teenagers were beaming at the camera. His arms were wrapped around Betty's waist and her smile was so bright he couldn't get over the fact that he hadn't seen her in seven years. He felt a sudden lump in his throat and looked away. Well, not everything was the same, after all.
“Riverdale's very own core four, huh?” Pop's voice snapped him from memory lane.
“Good times, I guess. Different times” was Jug's reply. He must have been a real fool to think that stopping to Pop's for a late dinner wouldn't trigger old and painful memories. He and his closest friends used to spend a lot of time at the diner, hell, he'd even wrote the majority of his high school essays and mystery novels sitting on a booth at Pop's.
“Hey Pop, have you seen any of them lately?” Jug asked as he turned to walk back to the stool. He wasn't sure he really wanted to know, but the words just came out of his mouth almost without control.
“Archie's been here a few times, he always stops by for breakfast when he's on leave from the Army. Good kid, been through a lot.” Pop answered taking Jug's now empty plate. “Haven't seen Veronica since graduation, but I heard she moved back to New York with her mother to attend college.” Jug simply nodded and took a sip of the coffee. “Betty comes here with Alice and her sister Polly whenever she's in town. It's been a while now, though. I guess she's working hard on getting that F.B.I. badge” Pop said and seemed pensive for a moment. “What happened? I thought you two were close” he asked tentatively.
Yeah, I thought that too, Jughead thought, forcing a smile. He didn't want to be rude, Pop had nothing to do with what happened years ago, he was genuinely curious.
“Betty and I...” he stumbled on his own words for a split second. “We broke up years ago, Pop. And then...I guess life happened. Each of us went their own separate ways, we tried to keep in touch regularly but...” he trailed off, beginning to feel uncomfortable. Because it was a lie. After that first year, when he found himself alone in a booth at Pop's waiting in vain for his friends to show up, he decided it was time to move on. Being in their booth, a year after their breakup, had finally take its toll on him and he never called Betty again.
“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that Jughead” Pop offered, turning to the kitchen. “Hey, would you mind signing a copy of your first book for me? I have it in the back.”
“Of course Pop, go and get it. I'll wait”.
The truth was that despite all the efforts and the vow they made on a starry quiet night sitting on the bleachers of the football field of Riverdale High, he hadn't seen Archie, Veronica or Betty the following year. He had simply stopped calling or texting regularly after a while when he came to realize most of the time he was the one reaching out for them and not the other way around. Of course there were the occasional holiday wishes messages and they sent congratulations cards for his book release.
Even Betty. But he couldn't bring himself to reply. The night of his book launch he had definitely drank too much and he was grateful he didn't remember having his phone at hand, otherwise he would have probably made a fool of himself and sent awkward angsty messages, saying things he'd probably regret the morning after.
Jughead felt overwhelmed and was more than ready to leave, the picture had made all the memories explode once again in his head. He took his jacket from the stool and put it on, fidgeting, as he watched the last customers leaving the diner.
A few minutes later Pop was back with a copy of The Outcasts and a pen in his hand. “Here. I'd be honored to have it signed.” Jughead opened the book and wrote a dedication for Pop, signing it with a crown and his nickname at the end.
“Since you've known me my whole life as Jughead, it didn't feel quite right to use my actual real name” he chuckled closing the book and handing it back to the old man as he smiled affectionately.
When Jughead reached into his pocket to grab his wallet, Pop stopped him by raising his palm “It's on the house. I'm glad you stopped by and took some time to chat.”
“That was a pleasure Pop, thanks for the burger and everything else. Delicious as always”.
“Hope to see you again soon, kid, are you planning to stay in town for a while?” he asked when Jughead walked to the door.
Principal Weatherbee called Jughead the week before, asking him to fill in as supply teacher for the English Lit class at Riverdale High. He had already decided to take a little break from writing, after the launch of his third novel, so even if the request came with such a short notice, he gladly agreed.
“I'll be sticking around for a few weeks at least. You'll get tired of seeing me here all the time again, Pop” Jughead smiled and waived goodbye, walking toward his motorcycle as he put on his gloves and helmet.
The air was still dense with fog and wouldn't seem to dissipate anytime soon. He reached for his keys and straddled the seat. He stood perfectly still for a few moments with his eyes closed, thinking about how the following weeks would unravel. He was back in his hometown seven years after graduation. He needed a smoke. Reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket he took out a cigarette and his lighter, anticipating the soothing effect that taking a few long drags had on him.
After he and Betty broke up just before she left with Alice on a girls-only road trip before college, and with FP and Jellybean on their way to Toledo, it hadn't felt right to stay at the Cooper's house.
Crashing at Archie's for a while felt like the only reasonable choice, he didn't have a place to stay and that was the only moment he regretted setting the Jones' trailer on fire, even if it was to blow-up a drug factory. At some point they'd cut off the gas and electricity and he got it as a cue to move on with his life and his future.
At the end of September he went to Iowa to attend University. By October 2nd he had settled in his new dorm room and for the first time he was away from Riverdale on his birthday. Not that he minded, celebrating had never been a priority for him.
Going to classes, readings and lectures in a place where nobody knew who he was and how his past still managed to torment him on sleepless nights, was a breathe of fresh air, far from the misteries and nonsense that was Riverdale.
Making new friends had always been a hard task for Jughead, he was a weirdo after all, but at least he could try. And he did. He would never in a million years become the life of the party, but he managed to get close to a couple of fellow English grad students, Warren and Kyla. Warren was his roommate and Kyla's boyfriend.
Nothing much would change in the following years. He became editor in chief of the University newspaper on second year and just before graduating he had already finished writing his first novel “The outcasts”. His tutor wrote a beautiful letter of recommendation to a couple of publishing firms in New York encouraging Jughead to head to the city for the interviews.
Being an intern was hard, no matter how good you were or how many professors would guarantee for you, you'll have to start like everybody else: making lots of copies, fetching a lot of coffees and work crazy hours. For at least 2 years.
Then, if you could prove to be good enough you could win your chance to actually read some manuscripts and give your honest opinion on them. And Jughead was good, very good actually.
The senior editor at the firm would assign him three or four manuscripts to read every two weeks and demanded for a raw and thoughtful feedback. Sometimes he felt like an executioner, ready to decide who would be published and who would see their editorial dreams crushed before their eyes.
This was the reason he was outright terrified the day he decided to submit the manuscript of “The outcasts” to his boss. Little did he knew that there would have been one more in the following year and a half.
He took the longest road to the Sweetwater Lodge, where he had made a reservation. After all, he had no family left in Riverdale and as far as he knew, not even an old friend who could let him crash on the sofa. He parked just outside the inn and headed to the reception area for the check-in. He chose the cabin accommodation instead of a regular room in the main building because he liked to be as free as possible but primarily because he called very last minute and the hotel was full.
The desk clerk was a young woman with dark blonde hair and deep green eyes. She looked up from the computer and greeted him with a warm smile “Good evening Sir, welcome to Sweetwater Lodge. I'm Sarah, how can I help you?”
“Good evening, Sarah” he answered politely “there should be a reservation under the name Jones”. She seemed quite taken aback when she heard her name, usually guests didn't pay much attention to whoever was behind the desk. Jughead might have had an unprivileged upbringing, but he knew how to be well-mannered. She promptly typed a few keys and nodded.
“Alright Mr Jones, I will need your ID and debit/credit card to complete the check-in” she went on, glancing back and forth between the screen and Jughead's face as he pull out his wallet and put his driving license and debit card on the desk. She took the card and ID and typed some more keys, smiling softly in his direction.
“Here, cabin #3. It's the second one on the left taking the panoramic trail through the gardens just outside the hall, I can show you” she offered, looking him directly in the eyes. He wasn't stupid, he could tell when a woman was interested in him and he didn't want to be rude but at the same time tried to let her down gently.
He gave her a brief smile and said “That won't be necessary, I can find my way, besides I have to move the bike” Jughead said as he took the keys and the cards and walked outside. The cabin was easy to find, at the right distance from the main building to ensure privacy and quiet. He parked the bike under the trellis on the right side of the cabin that could provide shelter from the rain. Fall in Riverdale could be pretty gloomy and rainy. Under the trellis there was also a garden table and with a sun lounger on each side, facing the river shore which was a few steps away.
He unhooked his travel backpack from the bike and opened the wooden door to the cabin pleased to see that the place had a running fireplace and a very comfortable looking couch. He put the helmet and gloves on the chair near the door and looked around. There was a large bedroom with an en-suite bathroom complete with a bathtub and a shower big enough to accommodate at least three people. He laughed inside at the irony, the whole old Jones' trailer could fit in this room alone. At least now, at the age of 26, he could afford to spend some nights in a fancy riverside cabin.
“Oh well, I guess being a reasonably famous writer has its perks” he muttered to himself dropping the backpack on the floor and flopping down on the king size bed. He felt incredibly worn out by the long trip, almost overcome by anticipation at the thought of setting foot in Riverdale High once again, wandering the hallways bordered by lockers, variety show posters, homecoming flyers all over. Jughead propped himself on his elbows and took a deep breath, scanning the main room. Opposite to the fireplace the cabin had a small cook top, a few hanging cabinets and a fridge facing a dining table with four chairs. He wondered if he would find any fresh drinks or some snacks, so he got up, dumped his leather jacket on the bed and made his way to the kitchen area, kicking off his boots by the couch.
He opened the fridge and was pleased to find soft drinks in all sorts of flavors, cupcakes and cheese sticks. He took a mint soda as he continued to explore the cabinets in search of some savory snack, grinning as he took sight of different bags of chips. He had a soft spot for chips, regardless of the brand. He grabbed the first on hand and started to munch, feeling almost immediately more calm, food really was a stress reliever for him.
The next morning Jughead woke up a little earlier than he would have hoped, he went into the bathroom to start the shower and looked in the giant mirror above the sink. His jet black hair was even messier than usual, the dark circles under his eyes were a pale shade of purple – this was definitely one of the good days, then – tension and excitement clear on his face.
Since he had at least an hour to spare, he decided to go back to Pop's for breakfast, suddenly craving a large plate of pancakes and a well needed caffeine fix to start his first day as a teacher. The thought of being in the position to influence and forge young minds made him laugh inside.
He left the cabin around 7.30 and hopped on his bike, grateful that the cover provided by the trellis had succeeded in keeping dry his only transportation. On the way to the diner he enjoyed the crispy morning air on his face. There were a few remaining clouds in the sky, it had rained quite a bit the night before and the streets were still wet, water still flowing along the sides, and as much as Jughead wanted to heat up the bike's engine and pick up speed he knew better than to challenge dangerous slippery roads. He loved speed and the feeling of deep alluring freedom that came with it, but he also wanted to be able to walk on his own legs for as many decades as possible.
By the time he arrived at Pop's, the morning had turned out to be sunny and tentatively warm. He parked the bike and walked inside, choosing to sit at a booth rather than at a stool near the counter so that he had space to for his messenger bag, and helmet.
A young woman about his age came to the table with a coffee pot offering to fill the cup in front of him. She had a slender figure, brown eyes and curly dark hair. But the thing that almost immediately struck him was her smile. It looked familiar but he couldn't understand how since he was more than certain that he had never seen this woman before.
“Good morning! I'm Tabitha, can I take your order? We have bacon and eggs ready in 5, but there's also pancakes and fresh fruit if you want” she said placing the coffee pot on the table and picking up a notebook and a pen from the front pocket of her apron.
Jughead put his hands around the cup, relishing in the warmth and nodded “I'll have a double portion of pancakes, thank you. And good morning to you too, Tabitha” he answered with a smile. She quickly wrote down a few lines, gave him a brief nod and turned away retrieving the pot from the table.
While he waited for his breakfast to arrive, he took a small journal out oh his bag and went through the first three weeks program he had planned for his students. Before being a writing enthusiast when he was only a freshman in highschool, he was an avid reader naturally drawn to classic novels, milestones in English literature. He devoured book after book, from Orwell to Melville, Bradbury and Capote, wishing to be able to write something even remotely comparable one day. He had planned one book reading per week but, having been on the other side of the barricade just a few years back, he knew that some students would probably have more difficulties than others to meet his expectations in terms of schedules and deadlines, especially on senior year. Jughead decided in that moment that he'd give his soon-to-be students every chance to prove themselves.
He was still deep on thought when Tabitha appeared at the table with a plate full of delicious looking pancakes topped with fresh strawberries and blueberries.
“Here you go, double portion of pancakes and God knows how many calories” she chuckled. “Maple syrup is over there, if you want to amp up the blood sugar even more” she gestured to the side of the table where the seasoning and toppings basket was. Jughead shook his head in amusement. She was pretty and had sense of humor, some would say it was a perfect combination. “Bon appetit, feel free to help yourself with more coffee if you like, the pot is on the counter” and with that she took her leave.
He ate his breakfast relatively quickly and left a 10$ bill on the table under the coffee cup before he headed for the door. He wanted to get to Riverdale High early and get reacquainted with the place.
The school looked exactly the same as he remembered. Sure there had been some changes like freshly painted walls and new vending machines installed on the student's lounge, but everything else had remained untouched.
He walked through the main hall to the principal's office, greeted once again by the everlasting presence of Miss Bell. “Good morning Mr Jones, you were supposed to be here 15 minutes ago. I'll need you to sign a few forms and then you'll be all set.” the old woman said. “You've been be assigned to class number 6, that's the one near the student's lounge, I'm sure you know where it is, don't you?” she went on eyeing him from above her half-moon shaped glasses, with a strange expression that seemed to be annoyance, as she waited for Jughead to sign the papers in front of him.
“Well this is an enormous building I'll do my best not to get lost Miss Bell, thank you.” he had to keep the snarkiness out of his reply. He had the feeling Miss Bell was making a little fun of him for some reason. Maybe because he was one of the youngest English teachers in the history of Riverdale High? Or because he was a published author under the age of 30? No, most probably it had to do with the fact that no matter how successful and charming he might have become over the past seven years, to Miss Bell he'll always be the troublemaker gang member kid who made Mr Honey run away from the school.
In that moment, Principal Weatherbee opened the door of his office “I thought I heard voices out here. Welcome back Mr. Jones, I personally feel very lucky that you accepted to fill in for Mrs Lincoln.
Something that resembled a snort came from Miss Bell's direction. She definitely held grudges.
If Principal Weatherbee noticed he made sure not to give it away but he gestured for Jughead to follow him out in the hallway.
Over the years in highschool he had mastered the fine art of letting situations like this to roll off his back. He was used to be the weird one, the outsider, the damaged kid from the wrong side of the tracks with a rough childhood and a most likely to be scarred future. But he had managed to turn the tables in his favor, become the first Jones in the family to go to college and to return to his hometown head-on.
Miss Bell would have to suck it up and get over it.
“Despite the not so warm welcoming, the superintendent and I are thrilled to have you in the school staff” Principal Weatherbee said with a reassuring smile, walking with him toward his class. “In fact, I wanted to introduce you to the students personally.”
After the presentations, Jughead was now leaning against the desk with his legs crossed at the ankles, hands in his pockets and an amused smile on his lips. Twenty students were looking curiously at him, probably wondering why they should learn anything from someone who apparently was just 2 or 3 years older than them.
“So, in the last few minutes, you've learned my name and you know that I was a student in this very school. So, before we dive into the lit program I have planned, I'd like to know which is your favorite book and why, from each of you” Jughead said, enjoying the look of anxiety on their faces.
He'd been there, he knew no one of them would step up and talk on their own initiative, so he tried another tactic. He reached into his bag and took out a book “Mine is 'In cold blood' by Truman Capote. Did any of you read it, by any chance?” he asked showing the cover to the class.
After a few seconds a blonde girl in the first row raised a hand. Jughead nodded in her direction.“Is that why you wrote a noir fiction, Mr Jones? Because you like true crime?”
He was pleasantly surprised, someone actually knew what the Truman Capote book was about and maybe had even read it too.
“I guess you could say it had an influence in the creative process, yes. You see, one of the things I learned about writing is that you need to read first. And read a lot. Books, papers, essays, everything you can.”
“And what about research? Did you do a lot of research for your book?” she further inquired. Jughead noticed that a few other students were paying attention now.
“Yeah, I bet he did. My dad says he was always sticking his nose where it didn't belong” came another voice, from far back. A young boy.
“Oh please, Jordan, why do you always have to be a blabbermouth?” the girl objected, turning towards her classmate.
“Shut up, bitch!” Jordan retorted with a slight menacing tone, standing up from his chair, slamming one hand on the desk and pointing the index finger of the other in the girl's direction.
“That's enough!” Jughead's voice sounded low and peremptory. He stood up immediately and approached the girl's desk. She was breathing heavily, on the verge of tears. Afraid. He placed his left hand on the back of her chair and even though she seemed surprised at first, she relaxed visibly looking up at him.“What's your name?” he asked.
“Me...Megan.”
“It's ok, Megan, don't worry” he smiled and gave her a little wink. “Listen everyone!” Jughead's voice was calm but had a menacing vibe as he continued, walking around the room “What just happened, must not happen again. Ever!”
Once in front of Jordan, Jughead's eyes reduced to slits and he spoke directly to him.
“Bullies, verbal aggression or disrespect of any kind will not be tolerated in my class, Jordan, and...” the boy appeared to have sunk back deep into his chair, any sign of bravery or arrogance gone “...if you think that insulting one of your classmates will ever make you strong or popular, I can't even begin to explain to you how wrong and narrow-minded you are.” His gaze roamed across each row of desks, staring at each student right in the eyes. He'd been through this shit so many times in the past and he wasn't going to let the same story repeat itself over and over, not in his class.
“Consider this the first and last warning.” and with that he made his way back to his desk and sat behind it.
“Now, apparently there's an unspoken rule according to which I can't put you in detention on the first week of school, but what I can and will do is assigning you a 10000 words essay on your favorite book, due by Friday.”
The class was suddenly buzzing with chatters, but nobody dared to complain out loud.
Punishing the whole group because of one single jerk wasn't fair, but it surely sent the right message. In unity, there is strength . That much he knew.
After that, Jughead sent Megan to the school's library to get copies of 'In cold blood' for everyone and start a class reading. If nothing, he'd try to pass on some of his passion for literature.
In the following days, the class seemed to grow accustomed to him and to his methods. Jughead learned from Principal Weatherbee that Jordan's parents were going through a bad divorce and the kid was constantly caught up in the cross-fire. He knew all too well how nasty parents fights could get and how hard it was to deal with the aftermath. He made a mental note to make sure to keep an eye on Jordan, searching for signs of stress, getting him involved in group-work in the following days. Surprisingly enough, Megan was one of the kids he got along with the most. Go figure.
His first week went by just about the same every day. He got to Riverdale High early each morning to prep for class, he crashed in the teacher's lounge for a bit drinking coffee or having some sort of snack. Lunch usually consisted in a quick raid of the vending machines or at Pop's for a burger.
Just as he was about to take off on his bike on Friday afternoon, he saw Kevin Keller crossing the parking lot, heading for the school entrance.
“Kevin!” he called, killing the engine and pulling off his helmet.
The brown-haired man turned around and focused on Jughead who was still sitting on the bike, raising a hand to get noticed in the crowd of students and professors leaving for the week-end.
“Jughead? Is that you?!” he approached quickly, a smile spreading on his lips. Jughead half-smirked holding out a hand.
“The hell with the handshake bro!” Kevin laughed pulling Jughead in for a hug.
“Easy tiger! You wouldn't want to crash me and my trusty steed to the ground, would you?”
Even though they had not seen each other in years, he considered Kevin to be a dear friend still and he was glad to see a familiar face.
“Wow, still fascinated by death on wheels, I see? I swear I'll never understand the fetish some of you have for these things” he eyed Jughead's bike in a mix between terror and fascination. “What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were living big in New York, making money and dating models? I mean, you have not only one but two bestsellers under your belt and you're not even 30! One proud member of The Brat pack !” Kevin was genuinely happy to see Jughead and in all honesty, his attitude was contagious. His comments on his supposed celebrity life made him laugh hard.
“Yeah, sorry to disappoint, Kev, but I still live in the same building since I graduated college, not even remotely near the fancy part of the Big Apple, but selling a decent amount of copies got me in the position to move to the attic and live without roommates which is a godsend, let me tell you.”
“A decent...a decent amount?!” Kevin's eyes rolled so high that for a moment Jughead thought he might faint. “I heard 10 MILLION copies and counting, smartass! By the way, we need to go to dinner or lunch soon. So much to catch up but now I'm in kind of a hurry. I have a meeting with the school board. I'll call you tomorrow” and with that he was gone.
He'd been in touch with some of the former Serpents like Toni, Fangs and Sweet Pea, so he knew that Kevin got a degree in Dramatic Arts at UCLA and that he landed a few impressive roles on Broadway shows.
Jughead geared up, fixed his gloves and started his bike again. It was a beautiful sunny day and he wanted to go for a ride before dinnertime. He followed Sweetwater river as it unfolded all the way through town, he drove lazily taking in his surroundings until he saw perfectly mowed lawns and white picket fences and he knew he reached the most elegant residential neighborhoods in the Northside with its fancy little shops and overall frozen in time vibe.
Even the house with the red door on Elm street hadn't changed a bit. He wondered if Alice or Polly were still living there or if they finally managed to sell it. He slowed down and pulled over right in front of the house. He felt a stinging pain through his heart and clenched his fingers around the handlebar, his knuckles almost certainly turning white under his gloves. The painful memory of the last day he'd been there was like a gaping wound right in the middle of his chest. He could see himself and Betty standing on the front porch, hugging tight for the last time, her ponytail swaying in the air as she turned on her heels and walked away from him. He remembered everything. The sadness in her eyes, the exact shade of green of her polka dot summer dress and how her skin smelled of vanilla and musk as he lightly brushed his lips on the side of her neck while he held her, knowing their split would be final this time.
That was the day his heart shattered into a million pieces and probably would never be whole ever again.
“Fuck!” he cursed “I hate this fucking town!”
He revved the engine kicking the side stand so violently with his foot that he swore he felt something break. He took off in a blur of smoke, speeding up way over the limit. He tried to focus on the road and stay calm, breathing steadily and clearing his mind.